The Sun Will Rise
by Cassiopeia'sFreckles
Summary: And we will try again. . . I guess it doesn't matter who you are, sometimes it just takes a while to figure out what the words you need are.


Hello (again, if we've already met), thanks for deciding to give my fic a read. I know it's kinda long and all in one big chunk but please bear with me. Before we get started I just want to take the chance to say thank you to the excellent human beings who have read, reviewed and even favourited my other stuff, you make my day.  
Thanks again, Freckles

* * *

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Seriously?!_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _What? NO! Come on, you can't just say that and then be 'away'_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Not cool_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Brb_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Oh, yeah, because brb makes everything okay :(_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _You suck_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _I'm really sorry!_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Dinner happened_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Hello?_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Please don't hate me :(_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _I don't hate you, like I ever could!_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _But please tell me you're actually moving down here_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Yep, Mum's new job starts in August so we're moving at the end of July_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Yes!_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _We can finally see each other :D This is gunna be AMAZING_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _I know! We can actually go and do all the stuff we've said we were gunna do for, like, the last two years_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Oh God, finally!_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _D'you know what your new school is gunna be?_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Nah, not yet. We're not sure exactly where the new house is gunna be yet so . . ._

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Ah, yeah, fair enough. Let me know when you do though, it'd be really cool if we ended up at the same one_

Yeah, yeah it would be . . . Only, I kinda hope we don't because I am gunna be such a fucking massive disappointment to you. I spin around in my desk chair a couple times before I reply. The smiling emoji I tack on at the end feels kinda insincere but the joy of the internet it that you don't know that. We move on from talking about the move after that, back to our normal mishmash of day to day stuff and dumb in jokes that always make me laugh. After a while the worry about meeting you, seeing you in person, about disappointing you fades, and I'm just excited that I'm finally gunna be able to hang out with my best friend. July is still about four months away. I have plenty of time to psyche myself up about this and work out what I'm gunna say to you. Plenty of time to explain things and tell you stuff before Mum and I even start boxing things up. Or plenty of time to work out how the hell I'm gunna make it so you never find out. . . except that's stupid. . . so it's probably exactly what I gunna do. . .

* * *

`This one does well in the league tables, and Google maps says it's in walking distance of the house.'

Mum and I are discussing schools, if lying on the sofa watching Graham Norton and eating ice cream counts as discussing schools. Well, I'm mostly the one eating ice cream, and Mum is actually looking at schools on the internet but neither of us is giving it our full attention.

`They have very smart uniforms, better than your current one.'

I lean over to get a look at the photo she's pointing at. I'm guessing by smart she just means that they wear a blazer and a tie unlike my school at the moment which has opted for sweatshirts made from that material that only school sweatshirts are ever made of. They've got better school colours than us too. We're navy, a weird off-yellow that's kinda vomit-y and white. If the smiley children in the photos are anything to go by, and I'm guessing they are, this school went for the classic black, white and hints of red. Snazzy. . .

`What do you think?' Mum flicks her eyes from the screen to my face.

`Looks like a school. Which one is it?'

`St. Catherine's,' she scrolls up the page to bring the header into view. It's very nice, and also very definitely says St Catherine's.

Shit. Fuck. Arse. Bollocking tit wanks. Haemorrhoidal, sweaty palmed, knob juggling anus clowns. St Catherine's is where Link goes. . . it very much sounds like St Catherine's is going to be where I go. I've not said the thing I should say but probably wasn't ever going to say to him, y'know, to him. Fuck my life. Wait no, hold up on the fucking of my life for a moment. Maybe, just maybe, it doesn't matter. Maybe it's going to be the whole "new school, new start" jazz that people says whenever anyone moves schools ever for all of time. Maybe everything will be fine because I'm not going to be a disappointment because I'm going to go there and just be me and no one will know any different. Everything will be fine.

Everything will be fine, but I still keep quiet about St Catherine's for the time being, just in case everything isn't fine. I even Google a back up pretend school because I hate being unprepared when the shit hits the fan. And if I know anything it's that shit will always find a way to hit a fan. It's like some unwritten law of the universe. They should rewrite Romeo and Juliet only with some shit and a fan because that's how much shit likes to get all up in fans' business. It'd be beautiful; `Oh Shit-eo, Shit-eo, wherefore art thou Shit-eo?', `But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Fanliet is the sun.' Well, maybe not beautiful, but if they can put zombies in Pride and Prejudice, I can put shit and fans in Shakespeare.

Not that it matters, because everything will be fine. Everything is fine. Everything is not fine. . .

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Hey :D only a month 'til you move!_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _I know :)_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Pretty sure I'm gunna die under an avalanche of boxes before we get that far though. . ._

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Nope. Unacceptable. I forbid it._

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Oh, I didn't realise that the teetering of the mighty box stacks was subject to your commands_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Ah, but you see, I am Lord High Emperor of all boxkind and as such boxalanches may only occur when I issue an Imperial decree calling for one_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _And would you look at that, I am all out of Imperial decrees so no boxalanches for you_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Thank you, oh great majesty, lord of all that is square and cardboard-y, for saving the life of one such as me_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _My family will forever speak of your kindness and magnanimity_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Cheers sugar tits ;)_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _. . . Nope. . ._

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _You just ruined it_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Why would you ruin it?!_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _How could you?!_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Aww, come on, I'm sorry Zel_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _I just couldn't not_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _I figured it would be funny_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Please don't hate me :(_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _I don't hate you!_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Do you know how hard it is to type when you're laughing so much that you're crying?_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _It's hella hard Link_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Hella hard_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Uh huh, hella hard, let me just make a note of that_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Anyway, how can you be so sure that my tits are, in fact, sugary? You've never even seen them_

Goddamnit fingers! You traitorous bastards. I grew you, all ten of you, by myself and this is how you repay me? Unbelievable.

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _I was about type 'but I will soon' and then realised how weird that sounded_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Like I'm some kind of boob stalker_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Which I am totally not. . ._

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Smooth :/_

You would be a very disappointed boob stalker if you were one. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Link. I sigh, working out the best way to change topic as seamlessly as possible. I don't want to let you see how uncomfortable I am. How much I feel like I'm walking over cracking ice. The water beneath us is so cold and I don't want to make you fall in with me. I should just tell you. It's getting stupid. . . They aren't hard words to say. . . none of them are long or complicated. They're words I've said before. . . just, only ever once all together in the right order. . . and it was the scariest thing I've ever said.

I want to believe that you won't care. That it doesn't change anything. That you'll just say `sure, okay' and everything will be the same only I'll know that I don't have to pretend. I need you to not care. I need you. The alternative is. . . not something I want to think about, but I can't not. Everything is so precariously balanced right now and I know, I just know, that it'll all come crashing down in a month when I am all the things you think I am but I just can't show you.

* * *

Mum and I are standing in the middle of the new living room. It's a very nice living room even if it's still full of boxes waiting to be unpacked. Mum is on the phone. I'm listening to her half of the conversation. It doesn't sound like it's going well. I feel sick.

`Yes, I know, that's why I'm phoning. . . If you'd just let me expla- . . . No, you see, . . . That's hardly fair! My- . . . No. Fine. Sure. Thank you.'

She aggressively stabs the end call button. She's got her back to me and her shoulders look so stiff and I can hear the breaths she's taking while she tries to calm down before she turns to me. I'm going to be sick. There's no conciliatory smile on her face when she turns round. She knows that there's no point trying to make anything good out of this. I think we probably both look like were about to cry.

`I'm so sorry sweetheart. I tried, I. . . I really tried.'

`I know.'

I am crying by the time she hugs me. I can't do this. I can't do this anymore. It's so fucking unfair. I'm so tired of this. Why is it that other people's comfort and happiness is always more important than mine? I'm not hurting anyone. None of this has anything to do with anyone else, just me, and I just want to be happy. I just want to be me.

We take the dog for a walk after I've cried myself out. Mum and Perdie sat at the bottom of the stairs and waited patiently, letting me take as long as I needed to scrub the feeling of tear tracks off my face and change into something that made me feel better. That made me look as close to the person I wasn't being allowed to be as I could.

Perdie is the best dog. She's the floppiest dog, which I personally think makes her the best dog, and she knows something is wrong so she flops about as goofily as she can to try and make things better. I tell her she's the best dog. She wags, and flops and even her flops seem to be flopping too and she really is the best dog.

We walk towards my new school. Neither of us really want to go that way but I need to learn the way whether we like it or not. I stare down the building when it comes into view. It was built in the sixties and it really looks like it. Just a collection of big old concrete boxes with some windows thrown at it for fun. I'm going to meet Link in there. And I really hope he doesn't work out it's me. It's make or break time really. Either I have to tell him now, about everything, including what happened on the phone today or I start lying through my teeth. I don't know what to do.

When we get back home we just carry on unpacking, using the move like a carpet to sweep the earlier unpleasantness under. I am every kind of tired under the sun when dinner rolls around. All three of us collapse in front of the TV after we've eaten and watch things without really thinking about them. My attention drifts to my laptop after a while. I see Link's message pop up. I still don't know what to do. For the first time in two years, I don't answer.

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Hey Zel :D_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _You there?_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Zelda?_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Hey listen!_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Are you okay?_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _What's wrong? Zel? Talk to me?_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Please?_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _I guess you just don't wanna talk right now_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Bye_

* * *

I look dumb. Dumb and uncomfortable. I hate this. I know that no matter how many times I stare in the mirror what I see isn't going to change. What I see isn't going to magically become what I wish I saw. I just want to get this over with. How slowly can two years possibly go?

Breakfast mostly consists of Shreddies and Mum trying to be positive about things. Perdie's version of this is to flop on top of my feet and lick my ankle. She's very comforting in her own special way. After I'm done eating I stall for as long as I'm able to before I have to grab my bag, slide my big over ear headphones on and walk to school. The closer I get to St Catherine's the larger the flock of kids all walking the same way grows. It's like water drops running down glass, loads of separate droplets all going to same way and then when two collide they coalesce into an even bigger drop. I stay a single, solitary little drop, unable to join up with any other groups because I don't know anyone. I'm just glad I don't get lost.

I wish I'd told him. I wish I hadn't just avoided all the questions. I wish that I'd been braver and that we could have made plans to meet somewhere so I didn't have to walk into this place alone. I wish this was easier. I pretty much know where I'm going, Mum and I were given a tour when I applied here. I really hope that no one, at any point today, makes me do that awful introduce yourself to the room thing. I cannot possibly be held responsible for my actions if they do.

Science classrooms are like airports, they look the same pretty much wherever you are. This one is a biology classroom and, therefore, has a fake skeleton, some plants, posters made by students with varying degrees of care and those stools that you only ever sit on in science class. We get assigned seats at the very beginning of the lesson. It alternates boy then girl as much as is possible. I get sat next to a girl called Anju who arranges her pencil case, text book, note pad and binder very precisely and in size order, which I appreciate.

She turns to me while our teacher sorts of the rest of the seating plan and holds out her hand for me to shake. It's a little old school but I like it. I think I'm going to like her.

`I'm Anju'

'Z-Sheik.' I really hope she doesn't notice that I trip over my name but it feels weird to say it. We never use it at home.

`It's nice to meet you Sheik'

She's so smiley. We talk quietly through Mr Leathams' introduction to what we'll be covering this term and his explanation of his `General Housekeeping Rules' which are basically to only have fun in small, sanctioned bursts and to do as your told. She asks what subjects I'm taking and which teachers I have and then gives me the run down of what they're like.

`Ms Prabhakar is either 5 feet two inches of pure sunshine and unicorn giggles or condensed rage and death glares, there is literally no in between.' I snort and Anju grins at me, `She's like a Goddamn teaching wizard though, you'll learn everything really well.'

Anju's great, I thought at first that I'd at least have someone nice to sit next to in biology but ever since she muttered `notice me senpai' when Mr Leatham kept ignoring her raised hand I realised I had a friend. I hang out with her, her boyfriend Kafei and another girl called Mallon who says her main skill is to be able to quote Mean Girls verbatim which is fucking impressive if you ask me. I think we fall into the geek category of school cliques but as long as no one gives us shit for it I don't really care. Mum's happy I found them too, I think she had terrible visions of me being forever alone. I've not spoken to Link at school. I've not even tried to find him. Which doesn't mean I haven't seen him. I have. It's one thing to see photos of your best friend making adorkable faces via the internet it's quite another thing to see him in real life. Holy fuck those cheekbones. Holy fuck that smile. Holy fuck that all of him.

I stare at him, I know I do, whenever he's there to be stared at. I can't help it, not that I've tried very hard to stop myself really. He's quite hard to not notice, he's normally right in the middle of whatever's going on. People like him, and it's obvious why. If I didn't know him better, if I hadn't stayed up until ungodly o'clock talking to him about everything and nothing, I'd say he was so cookie cutter 'nice guy' that he was kind of boring. But I know that he's a hell of a lot more than that. I like him, I really do like him and he still likes me even though I've made everything weird and difficult lately. We still talk everyday. If you asked who my best friend was I'd still say him without a moments hesitation. He's being so patient with me and I'm not really sure I deserve that.

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Heya_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Hi_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _You okay?_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Do you need internet hugs?_

I've learnt that just hi means he's probably not okay. I'm not aware of anything happening at school but then I'm never close enough to him at school to really know. I'm never close enough to him full stop.

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _. . . I . . . think so_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _What's up?_

The little 'I'm typing' bubble comes up and goes away a few times. I guess it doesn't matter who you are, sometimes it just takes a while to figure out what the words you need are.

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _I fucked up_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _I fucked up badly_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _I made them argue again. I just wanted to talk about uni, about where I think I might wanna go and what I wanna do and. . . and mum's cool with it and it's only a couple of northern universities and they're really good for my course and_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _And your Dad thinks they're too far away right?_

Link's parents don't always get on. I get the impression it's mostly fine but every so often something comes along and they have these huge, howling rows. Which I don't think is abnormal, all couples fight right? It's just, they always fight about Link in some way and I think divorce has been mentioned a few times. I mean, if they do want to split then that's up to them and if it makes them happier then, y'know, that's for the best. The problem is that Link thinks that because the arguments are about him that they're his fault and he's never said it but I get the feeling he's scared shitless that the divorce would be his fault too. From everything that I've heard, I don't think it's ever his fault. Although I might be biased, but I don't really care about that.

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Yeah, yeah that's pretty much it_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Did he say anything else or just that they're too far?_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _He said the grades to get in were high_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Mum called him a negative arsehole and then they both kinda just blew up_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _But what if he's right? What if I can't get in? What if I'm just wasting everyone's time?_

Not wasting his time, never wasting his time, just so scared he's wasting everyone else's like he doesn't matter as much as anyone else. Even though he really fucking matters to me. He really fucking matters to his parents too I just wish he could see it. He told me once that they'd thought they couldn't have kids, they'd been told they couldn't have kids and then, like magic I guess, he came along. I get the feeling his Mum and Dad have different approaches to their miracle boy. His Mum seems keen for Link to do everything. I think she worries he'll hold back on things he really wants because of them. Apparently when YOLO became a thing she said pretty much every day. His Dad, however, seems really scared that something it going to happen that takes Link away from them, and I guess those worries clash sometimes.

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Hey, hey now, you couldn't possible be wasting anyone's time with your applications, not when we both know you're gunna try so fucking hard to make it_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _I have never, ever known you to do anything half-arsed so even if you don't make it in (and I'm damn well sure you will) everyone will know how much effort you put in and people respect that a whole lot more than the people who can get by with just phoning any old shit in_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Okay?_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _I believe in you like sports anime protagonists believe in their team Goddamnit!_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Also, if it helps make you feel any better I'm drinking out of that rainbow butt mug you bought me_

I take a picture and send it to him to further illustrate my point. The rainbow butt mug is a thing of beauty in my opinion. It's a pretty ordinary mug except for the pattern of various well formed butts in pastel rainbow colours printed on it. Link sent it to me after I went on a solid ten minute text monologue about the best celebrity butts.

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _I kind of can't believe you actually use it_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Also, thank you, you're the best_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _I sports anime believe in you too_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Rainbow butt mug and I are here whenever you need us okay?_

I've got a dumb, dopey soft grin on my face while I'm typing now. I can't help it and I'm on my own in my room so it's not like anyone else is gunna stop me. I love him. I love how honest he is. I love how he doesn't hide how he feels from me. I love him when he's being dorky and I love him when he's afraid and I love him when he pulls me up on my ridiculous shit. I love that he bought me a mug with butts on it. I love that he is always, always there for me. I love him even though we've never even met and I'm too scared to tell him things I probably ought to. I love him and I do not deserve him.

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _You really, really are the best_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _It's kinda late, we should probably sleep_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _You want me to call you and stay on 'til we're asleep?_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Yes_

We don't do the calling thing very often, only really when one of us has a had a terrible day. We'd probably do it more if I wasn't scared of this too. It's also my crack. To be honest it gets me really fucking conflicted. On the one hand I adore being able to hear him, and on the other I'm so frightened that he'll figure things out from how I sound. I try to talk as lightly as I can, try to do everything possible to not give him a reason to think something is wrong. I try as hard as I can to sound like me. I pull his number up in my contacts and hit dial, he answers on the first ring.

`Hey Zel'

`Hey'

There's some rustling going on and it sounds like he switches ears, `Hang on a minute, I need to change'

Don't think about him naked, don't think about him naked, don't think about him naked. . . I am thinking about him naked. `Okay, just put me on speaker or something.'

`Mmmhmm,' he sounds muffled which is possibly because he's taking his top off. . . God-fucking-damnit brain now is not the time. He picks up talking again after a bit more rustling, `You been okay?'

I don't reply straight away which is probably answer enough, `I guess'

`You guess?' He sounds about as convinced as I am by my answer.

`School is. . . not great,' I sigh but plow on anyway, I owe him the honesty, `it's not like anyone is being a bitch to me or that the classes are hard it's just that I feel like I have to be someone I'm not.'

`How come, I thought you said you'd made friends with some good people?'

`It's not them, they're great,' I shuffle my way into bed and start aimlessly fiddling with the duvet, `it's the. . . urgh, I don't wanna says system because that makes me sound like I should be plotting revolution, but, let's just say there are certain expectations about things that mean I can't be me.' I bite my bottom lip and roll it between my teeth.

`Is that why you've been kind of, I dunno, off lately?'

`Yeah, yeah pretty much.'

`It's still early in the year, you could, y'know, switch again, come to St Catherine's. I'll be there, you can be yourself with me right?'

Tell him! Tell him right now. Tell him right now or so help me I will slap you! `Yeah, I can. If it. . . if it doesn't get any better I'll talk to Mum about it.' You fucking coward.

`Oh, sure, okay. . . I'm not sure if I should say I hope things get better 'cause it'd be pretty awesome if you switch over and we can hang out and stuff. . .' He trails off into a yawn

`Go to sleep buttface,' way to dodge the topic there Captain Piece of Shit, `don't have shitty dreams okay.'

`Mmmhmm. . .no-' another massive yawn, `shitty dreams. Night Zelda.'

`Goodnight Link.'

He hums in reply and then all I can hear are the sounds of him getting comfortable. I follow suit and then lay my phone down on the pillow next to me in case he needs to talk again. He doesn't, and after a solid forty five minutes of listening to his breathing slowly settle into it's sleeping rhythm I hang up. We agreed after a couple of monstrously big bills that whoever was still awake would hang up when they were sure the other was asleep. There's the unspoken understanding that if he wakes up and needs me again he can always, always call and I will answer. I know I can do the same with him and I've had to a couple of times when the things that run through your mind when you're alone in the dark got too much for me. I think I'll be okay tonight though, just knowing he's there feels like enough.

* * *

Mr Creedy is an interesting man. He wears the longest cardigans I've ever seen, they go all the way to the floor, and has so many, in all the colours. His other talents, besides being a human-cardigan-rainbow hybrid, do not include teaching. We have two music teachers who each cover different bits of the syllabus. Up until recently we've mostly been doing theory with Mrs Vanderbilt, but a couple of weeks ago we moved onto more performance based things with Mr Creedy. As a class we are now very aware why they divided things up this way. He's a great musician, he's played a few things for us to demonstrate performing for different audiences and events and things. He's also tried to explain the choices that go into picking a performance piece and how to convey what you want with your music, none of us are any the wiser.

This week is the first time we've all got to perform things we've prepared for the class. We all got assigned an emotion and had to practice a piece that makes us feel that emotion and then try and make everyone else feel it too when we perform. Which is why I'm sat here attempting not to snap the neck of my ukulele because I am fucking bricking it. It's not necessarily the coolest or sexiest instrument but I like it. People have said that I should just learn to play a proper guitar. I have to try very hard not to punch those people for two reasons; one, I can actually play a guitar, I have my Dad's old one and I'm pretty good at it and two, they're just being fucking rude frankly.

That said, I almost bottled it and brought the guitar today. I had it ready to go in the case and everything but when I thought about it, and about what I'm going to play, the ukulele just seemed like the right choice. It's what I've played longer and it's what I love more and it feels so much more like it's mine than the guitar because that will always be Dad's guitar.

He took me to get my ukulele. I was eleven and it was my birthday and we made a big day out of it. I miss him, Mum misses him, Perdie isn't old enough to remember him though I'm sure she'd miss him if she was. But hey, cancer affects one in every three people right, so it was only ever a game of numbers and we were just the unlucky ones. There are probably other kids in the room that have lost parents or grandparents or maybe even a sibling to cancer but I'm the one Mr Creedy gave `sad' to, so today I guess I have to feel sad enough for all of us.

It's getting to the point where I can't really avoid it being my turn any longer. I keep shifting awkwardly in my seat stuck between going for it and getting it over with and desperately not wanting to do it at all. Mallon is sat next to me and she gently pats my hand to try and make me feel better. She was one of the first ones to go and Jesus Christ can she sing. I mean everyone in this room is musically talented in one way or another but she is just incredible. Link's also in this class, I still haven't spoken to him at school. He got stuck with one of Mr Creedy's more out there choices of feeling which was `environmental wellness'. I'm not even sure if it is an emotion, but you do you Mr Creedy. Link did a creditable job though, covering Dotan's Let The River In, which I only know about because he's mentioned it before. Mr Creedy seemed to enjoy himself so alls well that ends well.

Okay, I have to do this now or I'm going to be the last person that performs today and that it arguably much worse than just getting this over with. Mr Creedy asks who wants to go next and I awkwardly stick my hand in the air.

`Ah, yes, Sheik, lovely,' He smiles at me as I walk to the front of the class. `Which emotion were you given to convey?'

`Err. . .sadness.' It comes out very quietly and almost like a question.

`Well, take it away when ever you're ready,' another benevolent, encouraging smile which makes me feel exactly zero percent better about this.

Just breathe, you know the chords and the lyrics and if this goes badly then at least you'll make everyone else feel better about how theirs went. I take another breath and settle myself and my ukulele into a comfortable position. The fingers on my left hand move themselves into the right place for G everything starts.

 _Now the night is coming to an end_

 _The sun will rise and we will try again_

I don't look at anyone,

 _Stay alive, stay alive for me_

my voice cracks a little over `for me',

 _You will die, but now your life is free_

 _Take pride in what is sure to die_

my eyes are screwed shut,

 _I will fear the night again_

 _I hope I'm not my only friend_

my eyes open, they flick up, to Link whose just staring at me and I can't hold his gaze so I look over to Mallon and she smiles at me,

 _Stay alive, stay alive for me_

 _You will die, but now your life is free_

 _Take pride in what is sure to die_

and it's done.

There is awkward silence. Oh God this has gone really badly hasn't it. My fingers tighten around my ukulele and I can't bring myself to look up. Everyone is still horribly quiet. Then there's an ugly, snotty, wet sound comes from somewhere on my left and we all turn to look at it. Mr Creedy, dear, sweet, cardiganed Mr Creedy is sort of crying. I now get why the room felt so awkward. It wasn't because things had gone badly it was just because, well, what else would you feel at a time like this.

`Sir, sir are you alright?' I hover at the front of the class not sure if I should just go back to my seat and leave him to it.

`Oh, err, yes, I'm fine, quite fine.' Oh thank God, I think we're all just going to pretend that this isn't really happening, `excellently done there Sheik, now, whose next?'

Yes, we are definitely pretending that everything is just like normal. I nod, and make my way back to my chair. I'm not even mad that we skipped the `post-performance constructive criticism/feedback from the class' that Mr Creedy is very fond of, I'm just glad it's done. Mallon gives me another reassuring pat although for quite different reasons this time. Slowly things move on and back towards normality.

It's that noisy bit at the end of the lesson where people are just packing up and talking and Mallon and I are no exception to this. I'm putting my ukulele back in its case when Mallon looks up at someone behind me. I look over my shoulder. Oh fuck my life. Link's stood there and he's got his dumb, adorable grin on.

`Hey' I turn to face him so I'm not stuck contorting myself to look over my shoulder, `so, that was Truce, Twenty One Pilots right?'

`Uh, yeah, yeah it was. . .' I can't look at him, I just can't, it's too hard.

`I figured, I've got a friend that loves that song.'

I can feel the dull heat of a blush crawling up my neck and face. It's me. I'm the friend and I do love this song. Love it in the way you do when something makes you feel so perfectly sad.

`You did it justice man, that was incredible' his lopsided smile will be the death of me I swear to God. Seriously just take me now, take me right fucking now on this desk. We've all grabbed our bags by this point and are walking out the room, I very deliberately don't look at Mr Creedy as we pass him.

The hallways between lessons are God awful. There is supposed to be a system where you walk on the left so that the two streams of people headed in opposite directions flow neatly passed one another. This is exactly what doesn't happen. It's even worse at the moment because it's lunch so there are even more groups of people just stopping mid hallway to chat or decide where they're going to eat lunch or possibly just to piss me off. Who knows. Link is still with us and we're still mostly chatting about music. I say we, he and Mallon are entirely carrying the conversation and I only really join in when they ask me a question. I'm far more distracted by the fact that he's walking next to me. I could reach out and touch him if that wasn't generally considered socially unacceptable. I could catch hold of the cuff of his jumper and make him stop walking and turn to face me and tell him. I could-

`Yo, ground control to Major Tom? You in?'

`Hm?' I turn to look at them only to find that they're about 3 feet behind me outside the door of the maths classroom that Anju, Kafei, Mallon and I eat lunch in.

`Oh, yeah, shit, sorry guys. Mayday, mayday, my brain stopped working'

They snort and Mallon pushes the door open. Kafei and Anju are already here and if they're surprised Link is with us they're not obvious about it. He fits in pretty much seamlessly making dumb jokes about dumber things with everyone else. It's roughly about the time that Anju and Kafei start their daily affectionate bicker that I notice Link is twisting his hands together awkwardly next to me.

`Everything okay?' He bites his lip before he replies

`Would you. . . would you mind showing the chords for Truce?'

I cram the last bit of my sandwich in my mouth, dust the crumbs off my hands and dive under the table I was sat on to get my ukulele, `nope, not at all.'

I grin at him, the first time I've smiled at him when he's been able to see, it feels wonderful. He beams back and reaches over to his guitar case,

`It's pretty simple but I thinks thats one of the things that makes it good y'know?' he nods obligingly, `so the first verse is G, then B7, then C and then back to G.' I do utterly unnecessary little strums of each chord as I say them but you gotta do something with your nervous energy right? He picks it up easily enough, it takes him a while to get the finger picking down but he's got it sorted a whole bunch quicker than I did. He asks me things while he repeats the chord progression over and over until his fingers know it so well he doesn't have to think about it.

`How long have you been playing?'

`Since I was about eleven, you?'

`'Bout three years ago to make me look cool.'

I raise a brow, `oh God, the sheer unadulterated coolness, be still my beating heart, I can't even-'

He looks up and opens his mouth and I think maybe both of us were expecting a smart arse come back to emerge but it just doesn't, so he sticks his tongue out instead.

`Smooth Link, smooth.' I roll my eyes at him.

* * *

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Hey Zel :D_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Hey there :)_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _How're things?_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Good_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Like, really fucking good :D_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _This is for yoooooooooooooou!_

 _Link'sLawnServices sends:_

 _nicethingforzel_

 _You have successfully received nicethingforzel from Link'sLawnServices_

I open it with iTunes as soon as it finishes downloading. It takes me a couple of tries because I'm trying to do it so quickly that I fuck it up and click the wrong thing the first time. My stomach is doing the awful flippy thing that could be nerves or excitement or both, probably both. I think I know what this is. Oh God, I hope it's what I think it is. It starts playing. It's not a good recording but I just don't care. It's Link. It's Link singing. It's Link singing Truce.

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _So?_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Do you like it?_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Is it good?_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _It's perfect_

You're perfect

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _I love it_

I love you

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Is it weird that this makes me happy?_

I'm crying. Not big, ugly, miserable sobs, just a quiet but steady dribble of tears. I keep hitting replay every time it ends. He sounds nervous and breathy at the beginning and there's a bit in the middle where he fudges the picking and the quality is shit and it's all fuzzy sounding and I love every single imperfect little bit of it.

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _It's not weird_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _I was kind of hoping it might cheer you up 'cause things haven't been great for you recently_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _I'm so glad you like it_

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Of course I like it, it's fucking amazing!_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Thanks :D_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _A guy in my music class played it for our performance assignment and I asked him to teach me_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _He's pretty cool, I think you'd like him_

Haha, nope, I can't stand that guy. I ram the heels of my hands into my eyes and scrub away all the dampness that's gathered underneath them. I take a couple of breaths, this is happy crying and I am not going to let it become the other kind of crying, not today.

 _AllUrPotsRBelongToUs says:_

 _Well, if he likes Truce he's gotta be at least a bit cool :)_

 _Link'sLawnServices says:_

 _Yup :)_

* * *

I can't stop listening to it, to him. I'm drifting through the clumps of other kids heading towards St Catherine's with it in my ears. The corners of my lips keep twisting up, and I'm fighting down all these tiny smiles brought on by a just another teen boy singing just another sad song, but it's my sad song, and I wish he was my teen boy. He learnt it for me. He learnt it and practiced it and recorded it for me. To make me feel better.

I dig my hand into my pocket to fish out my phone because it's getting to the end of the song and it's pointless to pretend I'm not going to replay it. I feel my headphones slide off the back of my head which they shouldn't do because I'm looking down and, y'know, gravity and shit. I look over my shoulder and oh fuck. Abort. Abort.

'Morning Sheik, what you listening to?' Link is about 2 seconds away from being gently serenaded by himself.

I spam the next track button, trying to get as far away from what I was actually listening to as possible. By the time he gets my headphones over his ears he's being treated to Total Eclipse Of The Heart. He raises his eyebrows and I'm expecting him to tell me it's lame. He doesn't, he just closes his eyes, curls one hand into the perfect air grab and mouths along to `turn around bright eyes'. He opens his eyes and grins at me, pleased with himself, so I laugh and join in with a 'every now and then I fall apart'. We manage to get through 'and I need you now tonight, and I need you more than ever' before we're laughing too hard to carry on.

`I am never taking you seriously again.' My words have to squeeze out around all the laughing.

`I'm offended that you ever even considered taking me seriously.'

He punches me on the shoulder. I keel over sideways, clutching the place where he hit me.

`Oh God, the pain, everything. . .going. . .dark. . .'

`Oh God, the originality, everything. . . so. . . lame.'

`Well fuck you too Link.'

`Wow, I mean, at least ask me on a date first man.'

I go from nought to essentially on fire in about 0.4 seconds. How is this fair? How is it fair that he can be so off hand? Well, I know exactly how he's able to say it as a pithy comeback. He can say it because it doesn't mean much, if anything, to him. It's just something almost clever to say. So I guess the only thing I can do is say something equally almost clever that I don't really mean right back.

`Yeah, nah, thanks, I've got standards.'

He makes a noise that is supposed to sound offended but doesn't because he's also chuckling. He mutters a quick `rude' and I shrug in reply and then the conversation moves on. I manage to keep up with Link's chatting just about. I'm pretty lucky that it's just about ordinary things, mostly school but sometimes our families come up. I'm showing him a picture of Perdie by the time we walk through the gates and into St Catherine's. I don't think he notices that inside I feel awful. I want to tell him I didn't mean it. I want to tell he's beautiful. I want to kiss him and tell him I'll take him on that date. I am going to do exactly none of those things.

We part ways, each heading to different classes. I just sort of drift down the hall, like I've become insubstantial without him next to me. I drift through class and then down more hallways. I drift my way in and out of conversations with my friends. I am not present today. I'm stuck somewhere between utterly empty and too full, ricocheting between the two and sometimes both at once. I keep going on that date with Link, just by myself in my own head. Sometimes it goes incredibly and others. . . not so well.

The line between excellent date and fucking terrible date keeps getting blurrier. I imagine going as I am now and as actual me. Now me has a wonderful time, we make each other laugh, we argue about who pays for stuff and we hold hands when he walks me home. Except now me knows that I'm pretending. It's there in the back of my head ticking over and over. So I go as the real me. He's confused, I try and explain myself but I can't get the right words out. He says it's weird, that it makes him uncomfortable. We don't laugh, we don't do anything. I just go home and cry until I fall asleep. But, at least I didn't hide myself away like I'm something to be ashamed of.

I need to stop this. I need to stop. I don't want this. I don't want do this anymore. I've had enough to being two people. I've had enough of feeling like I need to be something, someone, that isn't me. I'm so, so tired. I'm tired of having to look at not me in the mirror every morning because school didn't want to try and understand. I'm tired of feeling like my skin isn't mine. It's hard enough fighting your own body without having to fight the people who tell you to leave everything be as well. I know who I am and I'm tired to being scared and I'm tired of pretending for other people's sake. I will be who I am and I will be happy. If someone else isn't okay with it then I will learn to be happy without them. I'm going to explain to him and I really fucking hope I don't have to learn to live without him.

* * *

It takes time. It takes a solid couple of weeks of me changing my mind every day. It takes four and half lots of crying after I look at myself in the mirror. It takes asking my mother, the internet and even Perdie for advice. It takes eighty four play throughs of Link singing for me, and it takes one music project to be an excuse to invite him over.

We're walking back from school together under the auspices that we've got a composition project to do and we may as help each other. It was Link's idea and to begin with Mallon was going to come too. That would have been fine, it would just have meant that things would have to be put on hold. I don't think I could cope with explaining myself to more than one person at once. So, I don't. I don't know how I did it really but I just told her. Quietly and in a rushed jumble, when I could get her by herself, all the words just fell out and she hugged me and then suddenly she had to babysit her little brother that afternoon and couldn't join us. More of me took longer to process the fact that it went well than it should have. She didn't get mad at me. She wasn't freaked out. She just accepted it for what it was. It's given me hope though, that just because it took me so long to be okay with it, it doesn't mean everyone else will.

Just before Mallon took the turn onto her street she squeezed my hand. Even if this goes wrong I'll still have her. It's not long, after that, until we're kicking our shoes off and leaving them in a neatish pile by the back door. Perdie comes and flops on both of us to say hi and Link kneels down to deliver optimum belly rubs.

`I'm gunna go get my laptop and shit.' I gesture vaguely upstairs.

`Cool, you need some extra hands or anything?'

I pause, how tidy is my room? Tidy enough, `sure, that'd be great, thanks.'

I smile at Link and he follows me, Perdie comes too. I push my bedroom door open with my foot. There is stuff on the floor but I made the bed this morning and there are no visible pants.

`Shit son, it's like Tumblr's wet dream in here.'

`Uhh, thanks?' I'm going to take it as a compliment even if it wasn't one.

Link isn't exactly wrong. I have fandom posters, piles of comic books, Sailor Moon bedsheets, nerdy reference t-shirts and Nintendo games of various vintages artfully (haphazardly) strewn about. It's not a carefully cultivated collection it's just stuff that I like. I step over the scalemate plush that has thrown itself off my bookshelf and over to my desk to turn my laptop on. I ignore the chat window that autostarts when I log in. Link wonders about, investigating the contents of my room behind me.

My ukulele and Dad's guitar are pretty much the only things in my room that are easy to find. They live in corner by the foot of my bed and, unless I'm playing them, that's where they'll be. If they're ever not there my only option, as far as I'm concerned, is to go full Liam Neeson in Taken. I grab Dad's guitar

`No way, I got my friend a rainbow butt mug too.'

Oh good God no.

`I'm gunna have to take a picture to send to her'

Fuck my life. I hear the noise of the camera as Link takes a photo. I hear the new message notification noise go off. I see the picture appear in the chat window on my laptop, which is on my desk which Link is standing right next to. I very gently put Dad's guitar back down on its stand. This is not how I wanted this to go.

He looks very confused. He types something on his phone.

Link'sLawnServices says:

?

He turns around to look at me, `what the fuck Sheik?'

Deep breath, 'uhh. . . that. . . that is the rainbow butt mug you sent to your friend.'

`You're Zelda?'

`Yes'

`What the ever loving shit? Two years, two fucking years I thought that my. . . my best friend was a girl called Zelda but its you? Some skinny twat faced berk? What is this, some kind f catfish? I bet you've been having a great time the last two years laughing at me. Jesus, I can't believe I actually thought you were a girl, I can't believe I thought you were my friend when you're really just some fucked up guy that-'

`I'm not a guy.' It comes out so very quietly, there's a wobble as well, that betrays the fact I'm trying not to cry. He doesn't really hear me.

`What?'

I sniff, and wipe my eyes and look up. I take another deep breath and I try again. `I'm not a guy.'

I think for bit that he's just going to walk out. He looks like he's feeling too much all at once. He angry for sure, and hurting and possibly embarrassed because his ears have gone red and we're both shaking for different reasons and I can't pretend I'm not crying anymore. His face pulls itself together into a single, coherent expression. He's confused.

`What do you mean you're not a guy?'

`I. . .' I can't do it, `I-I'm' the words are stuck, `I'm. . .' I tense everything and close my eyes, `I'm trans. I'm a trans-girl. I'm not a boy, I've never been a boy. I-I've. . .just got. . . unconventional parts and, and there's nothing wrong with that. And if you have a problem with it then you can go fuck yourself.'

My whole body is spasming. My teeth are chattering even though I feel like I'm sweating rivers. I still haven't opened my eyes. I'm terrified that if I do I'll see that he's already gone. Who would stay? Who would stick around for a freak with the wrong body? Who would ever want to spend their time with me? Who would ever want me? There are arms, and they're warm and they're good and they're around me.

`I'm sorry.' He squeezes me a little bit tighter, `I'm sorry.'

I'm bawling, loudly and wetly onto his shoulder. He just rubs my back gently and lets me cry. It's not sorrow. It's not happiness. It's not anything really, it's just a release. It's seventeen years of feeling like an outsider in my own skin. It's finding and nearly losing a friend who liked me for who I really am. It's everything I ever worried about that stopped me from doing this sooner. When the wailing subsides and I'm down to watery eyes and a lot of sniffing he lets go. I'm given a tissue and he gets me to sit down on my bed with him.

I break the silence, `I'm sorry it took so long to tell you.'

`It's okay, it didn't seem like an easy thing to say.'

`I'm sorry for all the things I lied about, like schools and why we couldn't meet and shit.'

`You had. . . reasons, it's. . . it'll be alright. How come. . . how come you have to be, y'know, not you at school?'

I stare at the duvet I'm twisting between my fingers, `They said I had to go as boy because it's what my birth certificate says. Mum tried to make them be reasonable but. . . '

`So that's what you meant, about not being able to be you?'

I nod. I feel like I need to explain more, like I have more things to say sorry for but I feel all dried up, I can't think properly. Link puts his hand over mine,

`Does anyone else at school now?'

`Just Mallon. I told her on Tuesday because, because I was planning on. . . coming out. . . to you. . . today so I-I wanted it to just be us here and. . .I'm so sorry '

`You can stop apologising, you haven't done anything to say sorry for-'

`But-'

`No more sorries, I mean it.'

I open my mouth and then close it before any noise comes out because we both know it was going to be another sorry. Link carries on talking before I have the chance to slip another apology in.

`Well, now you have me and Mallon at school and, if you wanted to tell them, Anju and Kafei and so even if they make you not be you we'll do whatever you need us to so it feels less shit okay?'

`Okay.'

`Now, cup of tea?'

`Cup of tea' vigorous nodding ensues.

He smiles and stands up, `It's really good to finally meet you Zelda.'

* * *

Thanks for sticking with me on this. A few things; the rainbow butt mug exists and I want one (Google Kawaii Pastel Butt Pattern Mug and you'll find it), Truce and Let The River In are both on Youtube and I recommend having a listen. I also want to say that this draws from my own experience with gender dysphoria and if this has caused anyone any distress then I am immeasurable sorry for that. What I was going for with this fic was to take the Zelda and Sheik are one person and turn it around a bit (it's also been a bit of catharsis on a couple of bad days). I hope you found it interesting.  
Thanks one more time, Freckles


End file.
